The Rovers
by twobatdoc
Summary: When Special Operations Unit Hounds meets a rogue mercenary group called, "The Wolves" going after drug dealers, neither group has any idea what's in store for them.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note- As this is my personal idea, I do own it and ask others not to use it, or any of my characters/plot lines/etc. without my permission.

Day 1

August 17th

The Eastern Mojave Desert

Southeastern California

It was obvious from the moment the woman walked around the corner, her short red curls gleaming in the early morning light, this was not going to be a typical weekly training run. Every Monday at 0700 hours, the Hounds, an elite team of American covert warfare soldiers, assembled for a group run. They always ran the same route, a seven mile trail across the California desert out to a reddish granite spire, around the rock formation, and back to the rickety set of ancient bleachers that served as the starting point. They never ran with outsiders. They never ran with females. They never ran with five foot tall freckled-faced pixies that looked like a cross between Tinkerbelle and a Dublin fashion model either.

Several of the runners present had briefly encountered the auburn haired executive officer of the Wolves group when their units had first bumped into one another two months ago in the jungles of South America. However, glimpsing someone through your night vision goggles who was wearing muddy fatigues, ballistic goggles, and Kevlar body armor was not the same as seeing them in spandex running shorts, cross country shoes, and a jogging bra.

The runners exchanged knowing looks as the pack started down the dirt road. Each knew what was coming next. Brian, the team's senior medic, had a wicked sense of humor. He was also one hell of a distance runner. Normally, he quietly ran in the middle of the pack. However, it was common knowledge that the medic had finished fifth in the Olympic trials just six years ago in the 10,000 meter run.

Every time a newbie joined the unit the scenario played out the same. The first Monday run, Brian would lure the new man into following him out ahead of the pack, and then bury the hapless rookie who was trying to impress his new teammates. Today proved no different.

Half a mile out, Brian vaguely mumbled something about "fat old men" and began to subtly pull away from the tightly grouped runners. The lanky blonde gradually moved about thirty yards ahead then seemed to slow his pace, maintaining the gap. For several hundred meters the tableau held. Then the nearest runners heard a snort of amusement from the small woman loping effortlessly in their midst. "I get it." she chuckled. Then she veered to the side of the pack and accelerated, smoothly pulling up alongside the leader and dropping in on his right shoulder, adjusting her stride to match the blonde medic's pace.

Approaching the halfway point outcropping, the pair had moved almost 600 meters ahead of the pack and were steadily widening the gap. When the clustered group emerged around the hill turning towards home the duo were out of sight, somewhere ahead down the winding dirt road.

The rest of the group, as always, finished together. Waiting for them were the two speedsters. One, sweat soaked, was leaning against the rusty bleachers and had obviously just lost his breakfast. The other was sitting on the bleachers quietly punching something into a cell phone. There was also a small unkempt man in cargo shorts and a surfing shirt sitting alone to the side. Even a charitable person would have described him as a poster child for geek central.

The idea of a joint training exercise involving the two groups had evolved out of mutual curiosity and self-interest. Several years previously, a Ms. Winters had formed a team of female warriors. These amazons of spectacular physical capabilities were already segregated from normal society by the need to conceal their physical nature. This pre-existing social separation, combined with their incredible body performance limits made them ideal recruits to forge a small elite paramilitary strike unit. Thus was born "The Wolves" and for the last year they had been active, primarily in Latin America.

Ms. Winters, as far as anyone knew, was the founder, organizer, financier, and tactical commander. The unit, again to the best of anyone's knowledge, pursued a single agenda. Simply put, their leader's agenda was killing drug lords. Why was an unknown; one of many unknowns.

The U. S. Government was interested, highly intrigued in fact. Could they use these women in some fashion? Could they be of benefit to the DEA or CIA? Did they have potential as "civilian contractors", that modern euphemism for mercenaries?

Finally there was Major Andrew Lennox, the original founder and current commander of the "Hounds", a small team of SOCOM Special Forces warriors assigned the specific black ops mission of assassinating selected targeted drug kingpins. His interests were more specific. Could they be of any use to his team? Finally, at the very least, it would be to all parties benefit to coordinate future activities sufficiently to avoid potential fratricidal incidents. Thus was born the week long training exercise at the Hound's base in the California desert.

Ninety minutes later, all the personnel were showered and in fatigues as the experiment's opening day briefing session began. The Wolves, obviously tense, sat clustered tightly together on one side of the small chow hall. The Hounds, slightly more relaxed on their home turf, were scattered in small groups, but all conspicuously on the opposite side of the room from the females.

By turns, Ana McCauley, the Wolfs second-in-command, and the Hounds commander, Major Andrew Lennox, each addressed the mixed group, giving overviews of what they hoped to gain, share, and accomplish over the next few weeks. The Hounds executive officer, Chief Devine, gave a brief lecture covering the founding, history, and legal boundaries of the Hounds' operations. Gelda, the Wolf close quarter combat trainer, a wiry middle-aged Asian, gave a short summary on how their group trained.

Interestingly enough, the Wolves' leader, Celine, though introduced along with the other major players, did not address the crowd, but instead seemed content to be a silent observer; leaning against a wall in a back corner, enormous silver furred canine lying silently at her feet. She left the briefings to her second in command, who seemed remarkably relaxed and fresh for having just finished a seven mile run in a fashion that had stunned her fellow runners. Both sides made an obvious effort to put their best foot forward.

The only awkward spot came when Chief Agent Jenkins, the spokesman for the small team of Federal government personnel monitoring the experimental program, summarily and unexpectedly announced that they would be scheduling time over the next week to conduct detailed medical exams and psychological testing on each individual Wolf. At that statement, Celine glared harshly at an obviously surprised Lennox and instantly concluded he was as surprised by both the agent's tone and his statement as she. Celine Winter approached the podium down the left side aisle.

Chief Devine was struck by her startling resemblance to a big hunting cat as she glided silently towards the center of the hall. Her team's pulse rates surged up at the sudden drop in the room temperature. The discussion, not surprisingly, rapidly went downhill.

Celine's flat response of "No." seemed to set off some hidden emotional trip wire in the Government civilian. In an ill-considered reply that brought winces from several of the more experienced Hounds, he roughly stated that they did not have a say in the matter. Celine responded with a single word, clearly audible to every individual in the room. "Fascinating." She then calmly surveyed the confines of the room, seeming to fix the exact location of every individual. Turning back to face the agent with an expression as cold as an arctic night, she spoke. "Actually,…..we do."

Sensing the potential for the whole experiment to fail catastrophically before it ever got off the ground, Lennox strode rapidly forward and tugged at the coat sleeve of the immaculately clad chief government agent's arm. "Sir, I am confident we can resolve this, to your satisfaction. Perhaps away from the microphone? Please, Sir?" Agent Jenkins had blankly stared for several long seconds at the officer and then brusquely nodded in acquiescence.

Gesturing subtly for McCauley to accompany them, the Major guided the two towards a small breakout room behind the podium. Later in the day, after the fact, when they were reviewing the video tape of the meeting he first realized the huge attack dog, unnoticed entirely, had silently positioned itself directly behind the Chief Agent's right side during the verbal exchange.

Taking a slow breath he calmly began. "Jenkins, lets shoot straight. You and I don't like each other. Hell, I wish you weren't here. But, the reality is …you are. Let's all ramp down for a second and think about this logically. What's in this for you and me, Sir? How much will you pickup today just by observing? A damn lot, I suspect. I know my team sure will and you are set up to monitor every meeting and event. Think how much you will learn over the coming weeks just by watching and listening. Sir, what happens if Ms. Winter tells her team to grab their gear and get on the bus?

Sensing the senior agent beginning to cool down, at least sufficiently to recognize his own self interests, Lennox turned to the Wolf number two. "Do you think Celine would actually follow through on her threat and leave?" He was surprised at the complex series of emotions that transiently flitted across her face. Choosing words with obvious care, Ana responded. "Celine speaks seldom and never lightly. Every Wolf in the room heard precisely what she said. She did not threaten to leave." She paused, a troubled expression shadowing her countenance, started to say something, then finally remained mute.

The civilian immediately flared in response to her words. "What the fuck is THAT supposed to mean?" He blared. Lennox raised both hands palms up. "Geez, folks. Whoa. Please. Let's get back on track. This is simple." He turned to squarely face Jenkins and met his gaze directly "They stay…you learn things. They leave ….you don't." Silence ensued in the tiny room. The two warriors watched the play of conflicting emotions over the civilian's face as he calculated his options and the political and professional ramifications. The agent's stance gradually relaxed and he began rubbing his jaw with one hand in thought.

Satisfied the crisis was receding, the red headed Wolf turned to exit the room. Walking back to the podium, she was uncertain which she found more intriguing; the skill with which the Hound leader had disarmed the situation or the covert boyish wink he had given her as the two men re-entered the room.

Ana finished the mid-afternoon breakout session with her team. "Any alibis?" she asked. Lennox had slipped in the side door a few minutes before, accompanied by the curly haired slightly built man in his late twenties who had been in the bleachers when the runners finished earlier that morning. Waiting until everyone else had finished, he raised his hand. "I have one" he spoke, and walked towards the podium.

"I'd like to introduce one of my most valuable assets to your team" he announced, gesturing towards the disheveled appearing man standing next to him. "This is Josh. He is my "problem solver". Whenever we have a problem and none of us can come up with a solution….we ask Josh." The Wolves examined the new man with looks ranging from openly curious to politely incredulous. To first glance, any unbiased observer would readily admit his appearance was in no way assuring. Clearly having anticipated the group's reaction, the Major turned to the Wolf X. O. and, with a hint of friendly challenge in his voice, said. "McCauley, Josh has two questions he wants to ask you." Caught off guard, she glanced at the packed room, then back at the expressionless features of the Hound leader. She sensed a subtle challenge of some type in his request. She did not know the lean brown haired man well enough to discern if it was in good humor or malicious. One thing was for certain. This was not a time to show doubt or weakness. "Certainly." She briskly replied. Turning she faced the looking civilian. "Josh?"

"Yes yes I do hi my name is Josh your name is Ana i saw you run this morning you run very very fast I want to ask you a question actually two questions because if you answer two questions for me I think I can tell you why you run so fast you run really fast do you know you broke a women's world record this morning you did i am certain you did it was hard to calculate exactly because you ran about seven miles instead of 10,000 meters and it was on dirt so you were even quicker but I am certain it was 18 or maybe 19 seconds under the world record for women and ….."

"Slow up, Josh." Lennox interceded. "Let her talk." Josh immediately went mute and froze in place, intently looking at the small female officer. Amused in spite of herself, she chuckled.

"Was that your first question?" Josh's eyes lit up and he verbally launched, again. "No my first question is are you also very strong or just very fast? because if you are just very fast it is probably a cardio-pulmonary mutation or more likely several mutations maybe dual hearts or something like that but that does not seem very likely but if you are also very strong than it could be a more efficient recruitment of your muscle cells maybe a biochemical neuron-muscular endplate alteration or something I considered a muscle cell mutation perhaps in the mitochondria but all mammals have the same muscle fibrils and…" He stopped there, glanced briefly and dispassionately at her slight but distinct breasts and resumed. "…and you are clearly a mammal so i think it is unlikely…."

Ana, laughing openly now, held up both her hands in a signal for the savant to slow down. He immediately froze in the same position of silent watchfulness. Even as she spoke, she could not help but wonder how long he would have been content to remain motionless, waiting for her to respond. "I am also much stronger than I look." She stated, smiling at him.

The 27 year old's face furrowed in concentration for a dozen seconds and she could almost hear the gears whirring. "This must be what it is like to sit next to a chess grandmaster when he is playing." She thought in wonder. "My second question my second question….." He gestured out at the other Wolves, by now sitting transfixed by the verbal exchange. "….are they are they fast and strong, also?" A fresh voice entered the conversation from the back of the wood-paneled room. "Yes, Josh. They are all fast and strong." Celine replied.

Josh exploded into a torrent of words. "I knew it I knew it I knew it was much more plausible to have a single mutation now that I know that I am certain it is at the neuron-muscular junction I understand you do not want the men in the dark suits to do tests on you i do not trust them and i would not want them doing tests on me either but if you ever want to find out for sure i am certain we could find out with some simple tests I would just need to take a muscle biopsy from your arm or leg or any where it would hurt a little because I would have to use a needle but i would use a small needle and I….."

The tall woman made a faint motion with her raised hand and to Lennox's surprise, Josh immediately went quiet, staring intently at Celine, who then turned to address Lennox.

"Tests are not necessary. Your problem solver is correct. It took our research personnel thirteen years to isolate the genetic alteration in the axonal neuro-transmitter. It seems to have taken your advisor five hours and two questions to reach the same conclusion." She looked at Josh, then back to the male officer. "My host, I admit you have impressed me." Turning back to Josh she finished. "Josh, if you ever wish to ask us other questions, please let Ana know. "

The sun set in a blaze of pink and orange against the far western peaks. The stars emerged bright and clear as the first day's training reached its close. The command cell retreated to their small office. As before, Celine sat sphinx-like in a corner, observing Lennox and Ana hunched side by side over a conference table. They were totally immersed in a cluster of laptops, daily training schedules, Special Operations doctrinal manuals, and legal pads covered with random notes. They stumbled through their first mutual "after action report", striving to capture the "lessons learned" of the day and noting areas and topics to be corrected or pursued further in the coming days.

Celine smiled in amusement, noting it was almost a full minute before either noticed the two scouts who had silently entered the room and now stood motionless awaiting their attention. The green-eyed wolf exec was the first to become aware of their presence. She nodded crisply at the pair across the cluttered conference table. "Yes?" she asked.

Sasha, the wolves lead scout of several years, met Ana's gaze unblinkingly and in a matter of fact tone stated "We need to go for a walk."

With the beginnings of a frown, Ana pondered this for a moment then, glancing at her watch, crisply replied. "O.K.. But, you'll need to keep it short. At 2100 hrs we are planning…. " Her voice cut short as she sensed the man beside her stir and reach out, stopping just short of touching her forearm with his fingers. "You sound as if you two have something else in mind." He asked intently, looking back and forth intently between the pony-tailed Native American and the spectacularly scarred Slav.

The oddly matched pair, total strangers to each other ten hours ago, exchanged a long silent expressionless stare. Then Hosteen gave a microscopic nod, and the Wolf Sister turned and responded to Lennox's query, clearly speaking for both of them. "We need to learn how the other thinks, what the other sees." It was now the leaders' turn to exchange gazes. After several seconds of searching the Army officer's face, the auburn haired woman grimaced ruefully. "This is what we hoped for, isn't it." she murmured. He nodded in silent affirmation. With a nod of acquiescence, she briskly turned back to the waiting pair.

"Of course. Take as much time as you need." Celine, nigh on invisible in the background throughout the entire exchange, cocked an eyebrow at her number two's statement. Having received the desired permission, without further conversation, the scout pair exited.

"I have a good feeling about this." Lennox whispered aside to his co-leader as they watched the two scouts soundlessly depart, neither guessing the "walk" they had just approved would consume thirty eight days and become a Special Operations legend.


	2. Chapter 2

Most of the remainder of the week long experiment had been devoted to a series of team building exercises. The warriors had been divided into two teams, a "red team" and a "blue team". Each team was made up of a 50:50 mix of Hound and Wolf operators. Not surprisingly, it had been an interesting experience for all concerned.

To the vast annoyance of Andy Lennox things kept occurring he had not anticipated. The Major excelled at future operations planning and truly believed he should be able to anticipate any and every occurrence. Today's last scheduled exercise had proven once again he could not.

The two senior Hounds, Lennox and his executive officer, were sitting in the command hut and CW5 "Chief" Devine, still wearing his blue team arm and leg identifying bands, was grinning like a hungry tiger.

"I wish you could have been there, boss. You would have loved it."

"All I heard was there was a brawl. Is anyone badly hurt?" the obviously concerned Hound leader queried his big X.O.

"Nah. A few broken ribs, some stitches, maybe a busted wrist. No big deal. It could have gotten one hell of a lot worse if Gelda hadn't broken it up so quick."

"How did she stop it? Lennox asked curiously. "Esther told me the whole damn bunch of you were going at each other."

Chief grinned sheepishly. "We were".

He snorted in amusement recalling the scene in the sawdust pit.

"There we were, sixteen of us going at it like the Yankees and the Red Sox's, and what does she do? Calm as an old lady selling peaches, she reaches into her daypack, pulls out two CS grenades and pulls the pins. Ten seconds later, those of us that weren't blind and puking our guts out, were running like jackrabbits. I still have cactus spines in my ass." The big man chuckled sheepishly.

His leader, picturing the scene, laughed in spite of himself. Regaining his normal professional demeanor, he addressed his main subordinate in a still worried voice. "This is still serious. We have known all along there would be friction between us. This is just what…."

He was interrupted by the huge warrant officer shaking his head silently side to side. "You got it wrong, boss. It wasn't us and the Wolves fighting. This was blues and reds."

The serious expression on the commander's face changed to one of puzzlement as the blue arm-banded man continued. "Red Hounds and Wolves, shoulder to shoulder, piled into us like we had stolen their daddy's prize hog. It all started because a blue Wolf thought a red Wolf had hit her "normal" blue teammate with a punch after the whistle. Their sniper Ashton decked their commo gal Marlene with her riot baton and it was game on."

Lennox shook his head slowly in realization and wonder. "Well, I'll be damned."

The two sat quietly as the Hound commander turned his head to stare out the window across the barren desert vista. After several minutes, Lennox spoke. "How good is Gelda?"

"Best hand-to-hand instructor I've ever seen." The big man replied without hesitation. "I've known a lot of guys that were good with their hands. Being able to _teach_ it is something else. She's …..both." Lennox nodded gravely and eyed his partner quizzically.

"Could you take her?" The big man paused, obviously considering his response, before answering slowly. "Maybe. I've been hiding some of my moves; keeping them to myself. I bet she has, too, though. Just as likely, she'd take me. I'll tell you this. I wouldn't try it bare handed if I had another choice."

Lennox nodded in understanding. "That's about what I figured. They're good aren't they?" "Yep, they are." Chief paused and thoughtfully fingered an ugly swollen bruise on his massive forearm. "And, with the kind of logistical and technological support we could give them….." He didn't need to finish the sentence.

The three civilian agents slowly perused through the pages Jenkins had typed up. First one, then another, silently nodded in agreement. Sensing consensus, the senior agent continued. "We all agree they are a threat, then?"

Two of the agents immediately concurred. The third, Glen, the U.S. Treasury Department liaison, shook his head side to side once, then again, in disagreement. "I said they _could _be a threat. I also said they _could_ be a force multiplier, an asset.

Jenkin's rebuttal was angry and immediate. "Jackson, everyone but you thinks these freaks are dangerous. You need to open your eyes." The four men erupted into a heated discussion.

The entire group were gathered in the chow hall reviewing the coming day's schedule. The last statement though clearly hit a "red button" with Tommy, by his tabs a Force Recon Marine attached to the Hounds as their medic. Pushing back his chair with a crash, he angrily reared up. "Whoa. Whoa. Yeah, I see they can run fast. I see they can spar on a mat in the gym. That don't make 'em a warrior. What I want to know is can I trust them to cover my ass. Will they get all teary-eyed and freeze up when the shit goes down? Or, worse, just leave my ass? How many of these doll soldiers have ever actually killed anyone?"

Spinning to face Gelda, Tommy continued his tirade. "Yo, kung fu queen. How many men have you ever actually killed with those hands?" Sitting quietly, Gelda stared for a long moment at the backs of her fingers. "More than I wish to remember." she evenly murmured, as she raised her obsidian eyes to meet his angry countenance.

Lennox was half out of his chair, an angry reprimand on his lips, when he felt Ana's subtle tug on his sleeve. Pausing, Lennox visually took in the mood of the room. Several older Hounds were nodding in understanding or empathy with hand to hand instructor's quiet confession. Another man was glaring at Tommy, obviously offended by his outburst. They had known there would be resistance from both teams, he thought. The major slowly settled back into his chair to allow the exchange to play out.

As the tension in the room began to abate, he became aware of movement to his left and the room suddenly went dead still as, braided platinum ponytail swaying behind her, the head Wolf Celine smoothly crossed the room to halt in front of the still erect Tommy.

Towering over him by a full three inches, she leaned her face close to his ear. In a muted tone no one else could hear, she briefly whispered something in his ear. Then she calmly strolled back to her corner, leaving behind, his hands visibly trembling and sweat beaded on his ashen face, the shaken Hound medic.

After "lights out" that night in the metal hut serving as their ad hoc barracks, Tommy's outburst was still a topic of concerned and heated debate amongst the female warriors. The medic Leah, however, had the final word. "Fuck this. He had his doubts, he had some fears. At least he had the cojones to stand up in front of a crowd of us and say it to our faces. I'd damn sure rather share a foxhole with _him_ than one of those blue suited D. C. shits."

The four senior officers sat in a casual circle around the conference table. The only other person in the command hut was Esther, the Hound psychologist/linguist from the support detachment.

The agenda was two pronged, consisting of a candid analysis of the last two weeks and each individuals opinion on the pros and cons of future interaction. Chief, followed by Ana, then Lennox each spoke in turn. The individuals not talking sat mute, allowing each speaker to formulate and express their thoughts without interruption.

Esther served as a meeting recorder, capturing the concepts and concerns in writing. The three officer's opinions were essentially identical. Yes, there were numerous details to be ironed out. Yes, there would be political, cultural, and fiscal issues to be overcome. But, all unanimously agreed each group had tremendous assets to offer to the other and that a joint team would bring a paradigm jump in capabilities, flexibility, and lethalness.

Celine had listened to their comments, silent and intent. As Lennox finished, all eyes turned to the aloof woman who led the Wolves. Seeing them awaiting her input, she began. "In my experience with humans, trust cannot be gifted. It must be earned. Therefore, I propose a trial. From now until the Winter Solstice we blend our forces."

Turning directly to the intent commander of the men, she continued. "You will command. My team and I are completely at your disposal. We will assist in any fashion you deem appropriate. Mission approval will be totally in your hands…." She paused briefly, and then continued. "…with two caveats. One, we will not fight unilaterally. Your men must accompany us on any mission. Two, if my warriors are betrayed or ill-used, I will hold you responsible. Personally."

Andy Lennox stared aimlessly at the ceiling for a dozen seconds, and then turned to his second in command. Chief gave a single brisk nod. The lean army officer looked back at Celine, then Ana, then again to Celine. "Deal" he said, with a smile.

The atmosphere palpably relaxed as, excitedly, the group began exploring the ramifications of the new arrangement.

"Hold on everybody!" Chief's voice suddenly rose up over the other voices. "If we are gonna be a team y'all are forgetting a few things."

Ana smiled and good naturedly went for the obvious verbal bait. "O.K. Chief, tell us what we are forgetting."

"First off, we need a name." He replied, gazing at them in mock indignation.

Ana and Lennox darted baffled glances at each other. Neither had even considered a joint title.

Quite out of character, Celine immediately spoke up "I would like to propose what I hope will become a most appropriate title: Gyna Rovasti. It is ancient Welsh for "the Hunting Pack". We can shorten it to "the Rovers" for day to day use."

The other three officers exchanged "why not" glances and each nodded or voiced approval. Celine stood and raised her arm. "To the Gyna Rovasti". Grinning, the group stood and the four exchanged handshakes. "You mentioned a second thing." Lennox suddenly reminded. "Yep" Chief responded, grinning hugely. "We have to all go through Selection together!"

Forgotten by all, Esther sat in the background, palms sweating, staring fixedly at the shattered point of her pencil, which had snapped against her notepad when she heard Celine's suggested name.


	3. Chapter 3

3 Months and 4 Days Before:

"Dr Livingstone, I presume?"

The seven men, making quick adjustments to their combat gear as they walked, were already 200 meters off the LZ when the faint noise of the nearly silent 160th SOAR helicopter faded into the jungle night.

The seven, garbed in 1990 era jungle BDUs, had fast roped into the South American backcountry as soon as night had fallen, and now had approximately 6 miles to cover in the next five hours to arrive on target at 0200. The point man, a middle-aged American Indian sporting a long braid down his back, flowed down the forest game path as smoothly and quickly as if he walked it back and forth to work every day.

Four hours later and six miles to the south, on the other side of a small river, three heavily armed figures moved soundlessly along the outside wall of a guarded compound. Their camouflaged clothing blended into the foliage and shadows leaving them essentially invisible in the moonless night.

In better visual conditions, a close observer might have noted the ease with which they flowed across the terrain, each individual moving like a humanoid predator. What would not have been apparent was a truly unusual fact; they were all women. Two other similarly clad figures had stopped at the corner of the converging walls to cover their back trail. The remaining three members of the eight women team, accompanied by an enormous canine, made up the rear party and had already secured the primary rally point ten minutes back their trail, protecting their line of retreat.

Each knew their role in the operation perfectly; the small group moving like silent ballerinas on a darkened stage. They settled into place like marble statues, awaiting their leader's signal.

The grizzled veterans who teach the courses at Bragg all preach the same mantra; when it all goes to Hell, it happens fast. This night was no exception.

The men were in place, undetected, and only ninety seconds away from the detonation of the timed explosive charges they had placed within the compound, when the three grey clad warriors slid like ghostly specters over the far wall. The Major and his four man assault team were all wearing night vision goggles, universally referred to as NVGs for short.

It spoke highly of their degree of experience and training that all Lennox, the commander of the Special Operations assault force, heard in the earpiece of his command head set was a single low grunt of surprise.

'Who the hell were these guys?' he thought, mind racing.

They were clearly not Ruiz's guards. In fact, to first glance, they looked like another strike team. Then events spun completely beyond control.

The tall lead figure suddenly froze, staring straight at them. Half a second later, two flash grenades exploded in front of the prone men, overloading their night vision equipment and totally blinding them.

The dozing guard in the tower lurched to his feet in confusion and began wildly firing his weapon, spraying rounds randomly across the open compound. The penned guard dogs went wild, barking and struggling at their chains. Lights begin to come on inside the villa.

Making the type of split second decision on minimal data that has always defined the successful tactical infantry leader, Lennox's voice rang out like a bullhorn.

"Demo in 30 seconds! Take cover!"

Then, triggering his speaking mike, he calmly whispered over the command net.

"Abort. Repeat abort. Break contact and rendezvous RP 2 repeat move to RP 2."

As soon as they had slid over the midpoint of the vine covered wall, Celine had sensed something amiss. Then she spotted the motionless group of battle clad figures lying as if in ambush off to her right.

Signaling with one hand two her two team mates, she had tossed the flash-bang grenades forward. Three seconds later, she and her two partners had safely retreated back over the thick stone wall.

Immediately, the night exploded with the sounds of chaos and alarm as gunshots filled the air. She was just beginning to hand signal their next move when a strong baritone voice rang out from the other side of the drug lord's fortified grounds.

"Demo in 30 seconds! Take cover!" The three heavily armed women had been doing this too long to let any confusion or curiosity slow their actions. The tall blonde crisply barked.

"The alternate rendezvous. Leah, get the other two. Meet us there."

Even as they faded into the dense vegetation, a series of rapid explosions rocked the compound behind them.

Thirty minutes later, the two elite strike units literally ran into each other near a junction of the two jungle trails.

The two opposing scouts on point each heard the other group at the same moment and froze into immobility. The two squads of trained killers, each in strange territory, in pitch darkness, and surrounded by triple canopy rain forest, hugged the damp earth for cover senses desperately scanning the sepia blackness. The cacophony of night jungle bird and insect sounds filled the glade with white noise. Every fighter knew it was only a matter of time before someone made an error. They lay motionless, waiting for the night to explode into violence.

To the utter amazement of everyone, including her female teammates, their leader's soprano voice rang out from a muddy ditch.

"Demo Man?"

A few seconds later a tentative baritone floated across the night wind.

"That you 'Flash Girl?'"


	4. Sweat Saves Blood

"**Sweat saves blood."**

**Early September **

"You have to participate" Ana wheedled in her most persuasive fashion.

"This is not about skills or capabilities. As I understand it, it is about building small unit integrity. We all need to learn we can fully depend on each other."

Celine absentmindedly stroked the fur of the sleeping animal at her feet and replied morosely.

"In other words, part of the very trial I proposed."

Her subordinate flashed a sunny smile in answer. Chap stood up, stretched his paws, and yawned. Then he shook his giant shoulders once and stared bright eyed at Celine as if clearly saying "When do we start?"

Selection was scheduled to begin the next morning. Hank, for his sins, had been chosen to organize the selection process. It had taken a week for him to get the course planned and organized to his satisfaction.

He had pulled all the Hound support staff from their normal duties and recruited them to assist him. MSG Richard Van Hoose (ret), the supply chief for the Hounds, had been kept busy sixteen hours a day the last three days filling Hank's sometimes bizarre list of requests. Finally, the necessary preparations were in place.

On Thursday evening the old warrior informed Lennox they were ready to start the program on Saturday morning. Accordingly the Friday training plan was shortened to allow the personnel time to pack and prepare. All of the male operators had at some time in their careers served in some branch of U. S. or British Special Operations. All of them had gone through at least one selection process, some several. While a few of the Wolves were familiar with the basic concept, none had personal experience the rest could draw on for advice.

The combined group had just finished small arms training and were policing up the weapons range for loose brass. Guido had pulled aside several of the women and was feeding them detailed advice, all of it wildly misleading, on what to take tomorrow. He became aware of a new presence behind him and turned to see his Executive Officer, CW5 Devine, looming over him like an aroused grizzly bear.

The next thing he knew, Guido was sprawled on his side in the dirt, head ringing, trying to make his eyes focus.

"You ever treat one of my troops like that again, shit-head, I'll drop you at MacPherson's Point and let you walk home." the big man snarled.

Since MacPherson's Point was 40 miles to the northwest across the desert, it was not a threat to be taken lightly. Reaching down with one big paw, he grabbed the demo man's blouse and yanked him to his feet.

"Right now, wise guy, how about you tell your _teammates_ what you will be doing tonight."

Guido, thoroughly abashed, seemed to suddenly find his left big toe fascinating. After a few moments, he haltingly began.

"I'll stuff in as much food as I can at chow and then go straight to bed. Sleep all I can. My gear…I packed up last night."

After a few moments, the ex Force Recon Marine Tommy grunted from the periphery.

"Stick a sock cap and spare socks in a cargo pocket. Leave your poncho and liner in an outside pocket of your ruck where you can get to them easy. Don't bother with a sleeping bag."

At the last comment, several of the women got a puzzled look.

Tommy chuckled. "We won't be sleeping too much."

As the surprised women listened attentively to Tommy, the senior medic Brian chimed in from the side. "Tie your knive to your belt so you can't lose it crawling. Oh, yeah, cut your moleskin in squares before you get out there."

"You gotta have a ranger buddy."Chief added in a grave tone.

Having once begun, the now collegial exchange of information continued as the Rovers moved en masse to the bleachers to clean their weapons.

Celine, perched on a bleacher with the ever present Chap at her side, was already wiping down a disassembled SAW. The Nordic looking woman briefly caught Chief's eye and subtly nodded approval.

At 0559 hrs the following morning, Hank adjusted the girth of his saddle one last time, mounted his laden mule, and, looking over the group blew the whistle around his neck. The first Rover Selection had begun.

The two had tracked the big cat undetected for the last four days. They now lay side by side atop a rocky outcrop, watching the mountain lion several hundred feet below them grooming itself in the morning sun. Sasha was sun burnt. Her pale Slavic complexion was showing the effects of three weeks in the desert. Her partner Hosteen, naturally dark complected, was now sun bronzed. With his long grey-streaked hair braided into a pony tail, he could have passed muster with his Indian ancestors without the least difficulty.

The pair noted the new movement simultaneously. Approximately two miles away, off to their right, a primitive dirt road crossed a small ridge. A man astride a mule crested the top and slowly walked into view. Behind came a strange procession of figures clad in desert camouflage uniforms. Each figure cradled an assault weapon in one hand and wore a ruck. They were divided into two lines as they trudged over the rise and started down the gentle incline, each group striving with their other hand to maintain the delicate balance of the creosote covered telephone pole they were bearing on their shoulders.

Sasha quietly murmured, the first words either had uttered in several days. "Is it just me or does that strike you as a bit odd?"

The third morning found the Rovers constructing a series of two man hide sites under the watchful eye and non-stop tongue of Richard Van Hoose. Walking from one pit to the next, the diminutive white haired man never stopped gesticulating or talking.

"Ya gotta get out and look at 'em from a distance, fellas. Any decent hunter gonna see that fresh dirt from a mile away. Didn't any of you ever read Duffer's Drift? Jesus, what the hell do they teach you kids these days?"

Grimy, salty, and sun burnt from seventy two hours in the desert, the two Rovers were putting the finishing touches on the camouflage around their hide site. As Ana secured a clump of loose sage brush with a small rock, she nonchalantly asked her work mate. "What is a Ranger Buddy?"

Heart unexpectedly racing, the sand caked Lennox stared at her, and then consciously attempted to calm himself before responding.

Each day Hank personally divided the selectees whenever the activity called for small groups, calling out combos of people likely to form unusual pairings or force dominant personalities to work together as a team.

This had led to some unusual interactions, such as the litter carry. Several hours after sunset the trainees, led by Hank, had crossed a dirt four wheel drive track. In the middle of the rough road, illuminated by a gibbous moon overhead, lay two items: an old fashioned Vietnam era two poled olive drab canvas litter and, strapped down on it, a green army sack pack. The duffle bag was full of sand and weighed right at three hundred pounds. Several of the men with Special Forces backgrounds moaned or cursed as soon as it came into sight. Brian rolled his eyes and muttered. "We are so fucked."

Hank tipped his hat back, looked around at the team, and slowly drawled. "Lookie here. We got us a casualty. This durn fool done broke hi s leg. We gonna have to carry him back with us."

0200 hours found the team desperately burdened. Tommy and Gelda had the back of the litter while Celine and Lennox had the front, each one hand on a pole and the other cradling their slung weapon at the ready. The remainder were doubling up on the rucksacks of the four litter bearers or carrying the five gallon plastic jerry cans which held their next two days water ration. The plastic jugs weighed forty pounds apiece.

Chap, the only member of the team carrying less than a hundred pounds, was ranging back and forth several hundred meters in advance of the trudging column. It was an indicator of the degree they had all integrated that none of the men batted an eye at the concept of having the animal on point.

Fifteen minutes later, Chief Devine rolled his left ankle. Leah didn't even remove the big man's boot. The slight blonde pulled out a roll of duct tape and taped right over top of his boot. Hank watched avidly, wondering how they would deal with this new complication.

Celine grunted, stood up and walked over to the pile of rucks. She jerked her pack out, shrugged it on, and walked back to the litter. She motioned to Gelda and Tommy. "Get your end." And, with no apparent difficulty she went to one knee, grabbed a pole with each hand, and effortlessly stood up. The gaunt woman, hair back in a pony tail, had seventy five pounds in each hand and another fifty on her back.

Guido let out a barely audible hiss. "Fuck me running."

They had been rotating the litter bearers every half hour. At the first change over after the accident, Celine, eyes blazing, uttered a hard 'no' and refused to relinquish the front handgrips.

Devine stared at her. The big warrant officer, sweating from the stabbing pain in his ankle, had not uttered a sound since his injury. He gritted his teeth and shuffled to the front of the litter team.

For the next five hours, his assault rifle cradled in his arms at the ready, he limped along in front of the litter, shielding the defenseless front litter bearer with his body mass while he covered her with his rifle until Hank declared the casualty to be back at the aid station and they went on to the next scheduled "event".

As one by one the days passed, the operators quickly realized sleep was going to be a scant commodity. Hank let them rest for exactly three hours of every twenty four. The fourth day out, as the now much anticipated rest period approached, the grey haired infantry veteran mounted on his mule raised a hand and called the column to a halt.

Still astride the animal he began. "Listen up, children. Some of you think me keeping you awake or making you carry a sand dummy is just petty bullshit. You think of youselves as hotshot high-speed/low drag operators."

He paused and shook his head. "I guess you are by today's standards."

He paused again, leaned over his saddle and spat on the ground, and in a voice like a whip resumed.

"You're soft. Soft and spoiled and weak. For years you have trained in this nice warm dry desert, done your little 18 hour in and out missions and flown home on an airplane. You choose when to fight; if to fight. If you go without a warm meal for eight hours you think you're suffering. You are highly skilled and highly trained and highly experienced. But, one of these days, that ain't gonna be enough, boys and girls. One of these days, you are going to have to be hard. Hard enough to run for thirteen days; run wounded and cold, run with no food, run making do on twenty minute cat naps for days on end. Hard enough to walk sixty straight hours because you will freeze to death if you stop moving. Hard enough to sleep in the dirt with the bugs crawling in your wounds. Hard enough to do whatever it takes to survive."

The silent thoughtful warriors watched as Hank guided his mount back onto the trail. "You've had you rest for today. Move out."

The three civilian government agents had spent almost two hours in the empty barracks area assigned to the guest female warriors. The fourth had remained outside; standing watch to insure they were not interrupted. There goals had been simple; collect as much hair as they could for DNA testing, fingerprint everything in sight, and assess the women's personal gear for any downloadable data of any kind.

The hair collection had been simplicity personified. Tim Wellman, the DEA representative, had simply purchased a box of medium trash bags and a new handheld dust buster at a local Walmart. It took less than ten minutes to vacuum the pillows on all the beds. He then tucked the device into a small hefty trash bag and sealed it.

The Treasury agent, Glen, did the fingerprinting. He rapidly and meticulously hit the surfaces throughout the area, meticulously returning each item back to its exact original position. Finishing the last corner, his hands moving smoothly as a conjurer, he switched the position of the last three items he had dusted.

The electronic data had been harder and more time consuming to gather. Chief Agent Jenkins, assisted by Wellman after he finished the hair collection, finally finished. As expected, there had been cell phones, Blackberrys, laptops, and thumb drives. They had downloaded the data for later analysis and replaced the personal gear.

Ten minutes later they were safely back in their guest quarters. As they secured the garnered intelligence material, Jenkins chuckled in a self satisfied tone. "I hate those smug Army bastards. They think they are the only ones that can operate. Those bitches will never know we were there." Glen replied in a tone of grudging admiration. "I have to hand it to you. It went really smooth."

As the days and nights blurred into one long nightmare, attitudes and concepts burned deeply into their psyches as Hank hammered them against the anvil of the desert.

Ashton muttering "Fucking mule" as she helped Hank check the girth hitches at the end of each all too brief rest period. The grim white haired instructor repeating over and over, whenever anyone would make a mistake "Life is tough youngster; it is tougher if you're stupid."

A five hour night march, Camelbacks empty, to get to a small spring, only to find it dry.

Hank making them chant "Sleep's a weapon" every time someone yawned or he saw a head nod.

Chap, bright-eyed, head erect; seemingly immune to fatigue or hunger or thirst, always at Celine's left side.

Hank, with his seemingly endless string of anecdotes, constantly pounding home survival lessons.

Leah, on one of their brief rest stops, her back propped against her ruck, feet up on Chief's belly, grinning as she licked MRE jelly off her fingers. Celine, going the whole time on 600 calories a day, splitting the single MRE they were each allotted daily with her canine companion.

The sun and isolation and deprivation slowly forging them into a unit of highly intelligent, superbly trained feral animals.

At 0230 hrs on Day 14, Hank reined in his mule and shouted for them to ground their gear and gather round. "Listen up! The bus will be here in a few minutes. There's water on it and hot chow waiting at the barracks. Well done."

For thirty seconds no one moved or made a sound. Then the scene dissolved into pandemonium. Laughter, whoops, and expressions of disbelief mingled in the air. Suddenly everyone bubbled with energy and excitement as they began to decompress and unwind. They were all still chattering nonstop when the bus pulled up. In five minutes, soldiers and gear stowed, the team still talking a mile a minute, the bus pulled out, beginning the journey over the dirt desert roads back to camp. A dozen minutes later, every last one of them was fast asleep.

At 0350 hrs the bus braked and skidded to a halt on the wilderness dirt road. The engine shut off. The headlights went out. And, the exhausted group awoke to the sound of a blaring whistle and Hank's strident bellow. "Get up! Outside and form a line. Now! Move it! Gear and weapons! Gear and Weapons! Move!

They looked like a bunch of stunt extras for a "B" grade zombie movie; poster children for the walking dead.

Hank had meticulously planned it. He had set them up to emotionally crash and allowed them just enough time asleep to get into a deep REM cycle. Then, when they were confused, exhausted, groggy, crashed emotionally and at the lowest point in their diurnal serum cortical levels, he yanked them back into a nightmare tactical scenario.

Chap was the only member of the team who appeared alert and oriented.

Hank bellowed. "The enemy has cut your escape route. Your only chance of survival is to set up an alternate exfil site at a small enemy airfield 12.2 miles from here on bearing 236 degrees. A MC 130 Talon is currently inbound from Fayetteville. It will arrive overhead at 0810 exactly. It will circle once. If you do not signal you have control of the airstrip, it will depart. And, you will all die." He paused and allowed the silence to build, then barked. "Chief, you are in charge. Get 'em moving."


	5. Chapter 5

At 0803 hours, they controlled the mock airstrip and perimeter.

A grinning satisfied Hank blew his whistle one last time and declared their trial by fire officially over.

Twenty minutes later, once again on the ancient Bluebird bus, they settled back in their seats for the three hour ride back to base. Lennox's last waking memory was of his ranger buddy, snoring gently in the seat to his front, suddenly raising her head to yell "Dibs on the shower!"

The next few days were totally devoted to recuperation. They slept. They ate. They rested. They slept more. They unwound. They took forty minute showers. Then they did the same routine all over, again.

The stiff segregated social separation of the initial weeks had vanished utterly; left on the desert. The second evening back at base camp found them all sprawled in a loose circle around a roaring bonfire behind the bleachers.

Van Hoose and Esther had surprised the team with a pig roast, complete with all the fixings and a keg of cold beer. Amidst the chatter, Lennox's voice suddenly rose up. "Hey, where are the Feds? I haven't seen them since we got back."

Esther, dark eyes gleaming in the reflected flames, giggled wickedly. "They're gone. Hoose told them you would be in the desert for another three weeks and then asked if they wanted plane tickets home for the holidays. They won't be back for another two weeks.

Celine's voice drifted up from the ground where she reclined, head pillowed on Chap's flank. "Give that man a raise, Major." The whole team burst into laughter.

The morning after the pig roast, Ana walked into the command hut, glanced carefully right and left to make certain no one else was in the room, and, then shut the door behind her.

"My room was searched while we were gone."

The Hound commander was caught completely off guard. "Are you sure?" He finally asked.

The red haired woman just nodded.

Andy scratched his chin thoughtfully, trying desperately to get a handle on the issue before he responded.

"It had to be the Feds." She continued.

He instinctively knew she was correct. It was the only logical explanation. They had the means, the motive, and the opportunity.

"Tell me what happened." He asked his teammate.

"They were pros. One of them made a tiny mistake though. The stuff on top of my dresser was transposed. They picked it up for some reason. When they set them back they got things backwards."

"What does Celine think?"

"I haven't told her, yet."

Lennox grimaced and rubbed his temples with his hands. "How do you predict she will react?"

Ana raised her eyes to meet his. "Badly, I suspect."

The scouts were still gone. No one had seen any sign of the pair or heard from them since they walked off into the desert together the first night. A concerned Lennox, several days after the Rovers had returned from selection, went to Hank and asked when they should be worried.

Hank tipped back his hat and guffawed. "I'd bet a lot of greenbacks those two ate better last week than y'all did." The younger man's face twisted in wry chagrin as he nodded grudging agreement.

The idea of cutting everyone five day passes for the Thanksgiving holiday passed with acclamation. The following morning roughly half the team members had mounted the bus, bound for friends or family and headed for Las Vegas, the nearest major commercial airport. The remaining individuals settled in to a vacation routine at the desert camp.

Celine, to the surprise of all, produced drawing pencils and a sketch pad, and spent hours drawing, Chap gently snoring at her feet. Esther watched the two and brooded. Gelda came up with foils and masks from God alone knew where and spent hours teaching Chief Devine the rudiments of fencing. Lennox spent much of his time in the commander's hut, catching up on paperwork and pondering what the future might bring for the mixed team. Ana, a voracious reader of everything from bodice rippers to the New York Times editorial opinion page, wiled away the hours reading, curled up like a cat in the ragged old chair at the end of the conference table. Preoccupied and content, neither was entirely conscious they were spending most of their waking hours in the other's company.

The Major had been thinking furiously of some way to handle the illicit search that didn't involve burying a body in the desert. So far, he had drawn a blank. The agents would be back in a few days.

If he had ever had any doubts regarding Celine's ability to be ruthless, selection had removed them. Sufficiently provoked he was certain Celine would kill the Government agents without hesitation or remorse. He was also pretty certain the government agent's actions would be interpreted by the tall woman as a sufficient caucus belli.

Leah and two of the Rovers were headed to the showers after working out together in the small gym.

"Anybody seen the Major?" Guido queried as they walked.

Leah gestured with her gym bag towards the command shack. "Ana and Lennox were in the office, a bit ago, talking about something. The door was closed."

Guido grunted his thanks and split off from the group towards the hut. "Better knock first." Ashton called out to him. Leah, imaging _that_ scene, snorted in laughter.

**\**The next day a zephyr blew in from the mountains to the north and the temperature dropped. Saturday evening found the majority of those personnel still on base lazing in the dayroom around the roaring fire place.

Celine and Josh were playing chess. To the casual ear, they both sounded quiet impressed; Josh at the superlative level his opponent was playing and Celine that she was nonetheless slowly, inexplicably, being pushed off the board.

Scattered around the huge stone fireplace, Chief, Ana, and Leah were engaged in a verbal jousting match, debating everything from the decisive factors in the fall of the Ottoman Empire to which teams would make the NFL playoffs this season. Chap was sleeping at Celine's feet, occasionally emitting a faint snore.

A single rap at the entrance to the room sounded and Hank opened the door and strode in. His weathered face remained as expressionless as a stone carving as he walked straight to the Major and handed a single folded sheet of paper to him. Lennox rolled his eyes sardonically and scanned the message.

His face abruptly went blank. Ever observant, Ana stopped expounding her views on the New Orleans Saint's defense in mid-sentence, eyeing her ranger buddy watchfully. When he raised his head his voice was grave. "Ladies, Gentlemen, we have a priority mission task."


End file.
